I'm reinstituting the Poem of the Week with a favorite of mine from CK Willaims. Look for a Poem of the Week every Sunday here.

The Dance

A middle-aged woman, quite plain, to be polite about it, and

somewhat stout, to be more courteous still,

but when she and the rather good-looking, much younger man

she's with get up to dance,

her forearm descends with such delicate lightness, such restrained

but confident ardor athwart his shoulder,

drawing him to her with such a firm, compelling warmth, and

moving him with effortless grace

into the union she's instantly established with the not at all

rhythymically solid music in this second-rate cafe,

that something in the rest of us, some doubt about ourselves, some

sad conjecture, seems to be allayed,

nothing that we'd ever thought of as a real lack, nothing not to be

admired or be repentant for,

but something to which we've never adequately given credence,

which might have consoling implications about how we misbe-

lieve ourselves, and so the world,

the world beyond us which so often disappoints, but which

sometimes shows us, lovely, what we are.

-CK Williams

*tm

(with photos, as always, by Kari)